


Why is a Raven like a Writing Desk?

by MonkeyBlues



Category: Maleficent (2014)
Genre: Multi, Not In Chronological Order, Slice of Life, mostly from Diaval pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:23:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonkeyBlues/pseuds/MonkeyBlues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diaval preferred to live in a peaceful and simple life. But when does the world ever make anything easy? Surrounding himself with royalties and having a powerful fairy as a Mistress probably has something to do with that too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moments in Between

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: Three months after the movie

What is the different between a bird and a man? Or a bird with a wolf? Or a wolf with a horse? Or even with a dragon for that matter? Is it the appearance? Or the soul? Is it possible for a winged creature to be born with the spirit of one who lives underwater?

Tale from faraway land speaks of a man with a soul of a dragon. Does that mean that it is not improbable for one to be both?

To be a creature that had shifted from one form to others, some may expect Diaval to question his existence from time to time. But alas, the Raven was content with what he was. He thought that birds were the most beautiful and majestic creature (especially ravens), with dragons as a close second (breathing fire is a big plus). Horses and men were alright, nothing special he supposed, but dogs (wolves, whatever) were at the bottom of the list. The _very_ bottom.

He liked to sleep and eat in any form (every creature had different taste buds, he realized gleefully.) He _loved_ flying with his Mistress and playing with little, sweet Aurora (she will always be little in his mind.) Even Philip proved to be a decent companion and, most importantly, an easy target to play a joke on. The boy was too innocent for his own good. And pecking him when he got too close to Aurora always left the loyal creature satisfied.

In short, Diaval enjoyed his life and liked the simplicity of it.

But as the world never made anything to be easy, chances (or fate, if you believe those notions, he won’t judge) Diaval was surrounded by people who were the opposite of the word ‘simple’.

And that was exactly why he was sitting down in front of a table constructed from tree roots and vines (that was still connected to the tree, made with permission) with a quill in his human right hand and a deep frown on his face. The parchment facing him stayed blank, except for a few black dots, the results from the dripping ink. As one may guess on how he ended up in that position; only two people in the world could put him there. So yes, one of his greatest weaknesses woke him up from his nest and brought him to this wretched place, where his Mistress had awaited and immediately turned him into a human upon his arrival.

“Glaring at the innocent parchment would not cause the word to appear, Diaval.” An amused voice called him out from the branch above, clearly having fun with his state of misery, “You need to actually move your hand.”

Wishing for his wings back, the raven-turned-man shouted back, “Well I _would_ , if I _actually_ care. I’m a bird for god sake! What would writing _words,_ ” he emphasized, “serve me any good?”

It was not the same voice that answered him, this one was more playful and sweet, followed with a light giggle, “You did promise me, Diaval. That if I were to study, you would accompany me.” She stroked his left hand lightly. Aurora had always seen him as the bird that he is, the one she met when she was a child, even when he was in human form. He really liked that. Hey, she even said his hair was as pretty as his feather! He would throw a punch if anyone else had said that, but coming from Aurora, it sounded like nothing else but the highest praise.

Diaval raised his gaze from the offending object and was met with teasing violet eyes, “Well, yes, I did say that.” He said waving his quill around, sprinkling the ink to the ground in the process, “But what I meant is; I would be around you doing… something. Something _else_. Not participating in the… _act,_ ” he needed to make sure that she understood how much he abhorred this activity, “itself.”

“I think history is quite fun actually. And geography. Just imagine yourself to be at that time or place, or _both_! How exciting would that be?” A third voice, deeper than the two before, yet still obvious enough to whoever heard it that it belonged to a boy.

“Unfortunately, right now ‘fun’ for me means perching peacefully on my tree dozing off.” Diaval grumbled with an annoyed tone and a menacing glare to shut the boy up. Alas, today was not his day.

“Well, you said you wanted to help Aurora anyway you can, and, being able to read and write would certainly accomplish that.” What irritated him the most was how the young prince truly believed he was being helpful.

Does anyone actually miss that he has wings? Or parts from another creature if the need ever arise? And his strikingly good looks in whatever form he is in? Or his unwavering loyalty? And his dashing smile? Or that he eats with the help of his hand now when in human form? And that he has stopped… _reduced_ the number of people he pecked if any of them look at Aurora the wrong way?

Why, he could even—

“Start writing, Diaval.”

Before he even realized it, the quill on his hand was already pressed down to the parchment in submission, “Yes, Mistress.”

Of course he didn’t forget to flick two paper balls to the snickering younglings in the process.

 

* * *

 

“Aurora has really poor aims.” Diaval observed, squinting his human eyes to try to get a better look. “I mean that in the most extreme sense.”

After feeling that they had enough studying, the two royalties opted for some exercise. And since Aurora had expressed her wish to be able to defend herself for quite some time, they decided to try archery, with Philip as the teacher. In which the young Queen was currently failing quite spectacularly. Though at least they looked like they were having fun, if the laughter and the exchanging of insults befitting of five years old could be any indicator.

“Hm.” Was the only sound his Mistress made in acknowledgment. Her face remained unreadable. Well, if she was being her usual talkative self, Diaval concluded, he might as well keep talking.

“What a lovely day, isn’t it?”

A vague hum.

“I must say, the wine yesterday was exquisite.” Long live small talk.

No response.

“It’s great that Aurora is trying to learn, isn’t it? How to defend herself, I mean.” He meant nothing by his comment but his Mistress answered sharply,

“She should not need to.” She clenched her palm, her fingers gripping the sleeves of her clothes, “It was naïve of us, to not expect the attack.”

His shoulder tensed on the memory, he didn’t mean for the conversation to turn towardthat incident. The once light mood quickly turned sour. Some _disgusting_ remaining follower of the former King held the idea that Aurora was unfit to be their Queen because she  _consorted_ with the fairy creatures. Especially the same one that murdered their King, and demanded for the fairy Maleficent to be judged and punished for her crime. Aurora tried to reason with them, but it was clear that words would not reach them as they unsheathed their weapons.

They were quickly subdued by his Mistress, who was merciless at her attacks, and himself who had turned into a black panther with the present guards at their support. Their charge seemed to be unharmed, although she did look a little bit pale, and she smiled at them when all of the rebels were captured or knocked unconscious. It was not until later, when they were in her chamber that she stumbled down. His Mistress, fortunately, managed to caught her before she hit the ground. That was when they saw a bloodied patch on the dress and the injury beneath it. With a winch from the pain, Aurora confessed that a stray arrow had grazed her.  
  
Thankfully the arrow didn't seem to be poisoned, and the wound was not deep. But still, it was clear that they had failed their foremost duty. Something that went _beyond_ duty for them.  
  
He could try to make excuses for their failure as Aurora’s guardian, that it was understandable for them let their guard down, because they were celebrating her coronation on the human Kingdom. Or how they had started to saw the humans as Auroras and Philips. Or how they believed that it was not possible for anyone to even think about wanting to harm the newly crowned Queen. But in the end, it all only boiled down to the fact that they were obliviously naïve, or perhaps just desperately wanted to believe that they already earned their happy ending. It was a mistake that strike his Mistress the most, for her to commit the same misjudgment again…

Diaval decided to change the subject, rather than wallowing in pity. He had done that already; they all had.

“You know, Philip has been helping Aurora on composing that trade agreement with Corona. She’s learning quickly on how to rule a Kingdom.”

His Mistress quirked an eyebrow, questioning where he was going with this.

“I must say, you had the strangest of friends. I mean, Mother Gothel, really?”

“We are not friends.” She thwacked his head with her staff, “She came once to search for a way to become an immortal. I chased her away and heard the story of her demise.”

Diaval let out a yelp and stroked his head, his glare completely ignored by the fairy, “Well anyway, seems like little Aurora took your story to heart. She adores the ruling monarchs of that Kingdom.” He sadly forgot their name, “Been exchanging letters with the Queen too from what I’ve heard.”

“She’s a clever girl.” The fairy eyes gazed upon the young girl, who realized that both of them were there and waved her hand excitedly. They waved back.

The Raven turned his head at his Mistress when Aurora went back to her bow, “You need to take some credit for yourself. I don’t believe that you told her that story simply for passing time.” She didn't turn her eyes away, “Just a coincidence that Corona is one of the strongest and richest Kingdoms in the land? Or that they are one of few who don’t persecute the fairy creatures?”

“Believe what you will.” She cocked her head towards him, “She needs more human allies to subdue the unrest in her court. The people may love her, but they still fear us.” She let out a soft sigh, “There may come a time when the only one who could be any help to her is another human.”

“Mistress…” Diaval repressed the urge to place his hand on the pale woman shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. As close as they had become, physical contact was simply not their thing. “You do know that she wants you to rule beside her, yes?”

It was only a slight change in her countenance, but he noticed, it was similar to the one she wore when she failed to revoke the curse, “The history between Moors and the human realm are a long one. I rather doubt both sides would be willing to change that easily. Much less in one lifetime.”

“But _you_ and _she_ already did. Changed.”

She leaned her heads on the tree, “She is… special.”

“She is.” Really no one would deny that, “Exactly why you should trust her. And her judgment.”

His Mistress gave him a pointed look, the one that made him always feel like he just said something idiotic, “Trust her? She holds my heart.”

It’s a mystery to him how she could say the most embarrassing thing with a straight face, but that was probably not the point here. “Okay, then you should probably trust _her_ trust on you.”

The fairy didn’t give a response, but Diaval knew that she was thinking about what he had said. He didn’t push, knowing he had told his part. Lately, he fancied himself like that cricket guy from that story book with the long nosed boy and the whale (he still had trouble remembering names.)

He decided to get his attention back to the younglings. He furrowed his brow when he noticed that none of the arrow managed to hit its target and Aurora’s growing frustration. Philip just had a weird expression on his face, most likely resulting from trying not to laugh.

“Perhaps we should suggest another type of weapon?” Diaval cringed when an arrow flew right past him, almost grazing his cheek. Aurora gasped loudly, and ran towards him while apologizing profusely. Somewhere in the background, Philip was doubling in laughter on the ground while cradling his stomach. “…Preferably others that do not involve projectiles?”

His Mistress graced him with a chuckle and turned him back to a bird before spreading her great wings and took flight. He followed her retreating form and found that today truly is a nice day. After reassuring Aurora who cradled him in her hands, well as best as bird could anyway, that he was not hurt, he croaked and moved his head upward a few times. The young Queen cocked her head in confusion before finally came to understanding.

She smiled, “Ready?” He flapped his wings as a confirmation.

“See you at dinner, Diaval!” she shouted as she threw him up to the sky with as much force as she could.

The Raven croaked one last time, before flying away, following his Mistress path.


	2. Lifespan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline: Ten years after the movie

“How long does a human have?”

“What are you talking about?” His Mistress asked without shifting her focus from the task at hand; healing the tree’s damaged trunk.

Diaval jumped down from the branch he was sitting on. He had been trying to climb trees with his human body. It wasn’t so bad, he found out. The flexible fingers and long legs did have its fun use. Should have tried it sooner, he thought.

“You know, age span, life expectancy and what not. How long they have until they…” his hands made some abstract gestures to convey what he wanted to say.

“Die?” His Mistress finished what she was doing and took a step back to make sure no other damage remained. “Why, exactly?”

The Raven scratched his head while pacing back and forth, “I flew past a human’s cemetery.” He sighed dejectedly, “They have quite the short life, don’t they?”

“They do.” She answered simply and nodded to herself, satisfied with the result. The fairy turned around and stretched her wings briefly, then closed it again, “Ravens don’t have a long one either, do they?”

Diaval snorted and decided to sit down on a rock, “We have enough. Well, _had_ for me. Since after you turned me to…” he pointed at his body while trying to find the proper word for what he was but then just shrugged, “Whatever this is, it got stretched quite a lot now, isn’t it?”

His Mistress clicked her tongue, “Stop complaining. I saved your life.” She pointed out sharply, yet her eyes shone in amusement and her lips slightly tugged upwards. It was something that only both of them would ever understand.

Diaval snickered at that, “I don’t think we’re old enough to start getting nostalgic.”

She let out a hum and walked passed him without a pause. The dark haired man followed behind her straightaway without any question.

The Moors was quite peaceful that day. The only palpable sound that he could hear with his human’s ear was the leaves crackling under their feet. His nose sniffed the air, nothing but the smell of the woods.

Diaval frowned, “It’s strange.” He looked up to the sky. The sun was beginning to set.

“What is?” His Mistress asked without slowing down.

“Everything. I never worry about death before or even _think_ about it. It was just something that would happen sooner or later. I wouldn’t even feel anything if others was to die, it’s just how the world works.” He let out a long breath. It wasn’t cold enough yet to be visible, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He had developed this strange fondness of making and seeing breaths in cold air.

“You fear death now, is that it?”

He shook his head, even though he knew she couldn’t see him, “Never. And you do know what I truly meant.”

His Mistress kept walking, her shoulder straight, and her tone hauntingly monotonous, “Fifty to sixty years, if the person was quite healthy. Some even live to eighty.”

Diaval exhaled loudly as his way of giving a response. Too fast. Too short. Something, _someone_ so full of good should be able to live a longer life.

They walked in silent afterwards. Even though flying would take them faster to their destination and was something that they both loved, from time to time, they liked to have their feet on the ground and feel the earth beneath their skin.

The wind was getting colder the last few days; he made a note to wear a thicker cloak next time he went out as a human. No matter how many disapproving looks his Mistress shot at him, he knew he was getting the knack of acting like one. And Aurora made him a scarf recently, he’s definitely going to wear _that_.

And just like that, at one little thought of the girl, the cold on the pit of his stomach, the one that had never truly gone since his first thought of mortality, intensified. It was a chilling sensation which had nothing to do with the weather.

“…What are you going to do?”

His Mistress let out a sigh. He could imagine her doing so with her eyes closed, “Do what?”

“I know you have something in mind. You wouldn’t let her just…” It was pathetic how he couldn’t even say that word after having a glimpse of rows and rows of headstones. Just to imagine someday seeing one with _her_ name on it… He really didn’t want to think about it. Which of course meant the thought never left his mind.

It took a while for her to answer, when she did, it was disconcertingly toneless, “…Death will come to us all, Diaval. To the most ancient dragons and elves. To you, and to me. Nothing could stop it. Immortality does not exist, except as a curse.”

Her nonchalant act, brought up a sudden anger in him (one of the downside of being human, he found out lately. They _feel_ too much.) He grabbed her hand and forced her to look at him, “Stop this. Please just… stop. Stop acting like you’re okay with her… her…” He forced the word out of his mouth, “…leaving us!”

Maleficent hissed furiously, “Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.”

The Raven eyes widened and obeyed immediately. He staggered backwards awkwardly, “I’m sorry.” He whimpered pitifully, “I _really_ am…” He raised his hand to reach out, only to let it fall back down again, “I’m sorry.”

She turned her back on him and stayed silent. He looked down and berated himself on being so foolish. He knew she was nothing but apathetic on anything regarding _her_. And he just had to do something so... cruel. Flashes of Stefan cornering his Mistress when there was nothing he could do to prevent him from hurting her again, passed through his mind. Was this the same feeling? The anger and spitefulness that came from being powerless? He could feel the inhuman veins surrounding his body throbbed.

The sound of wings flapping and the soft gust of wind that followed stopped him from apologizing again (for eternity if he had to.) Diaval raised his head, half expecting the fairy to have left him. To his relief, she was only hovering on the same place.

She uttered her words clearly, “I made a vow that day, when I thought I had lost her forever.”

A stinging sensation pierced him. The sadness from the inevitable moment washed over him once more. He held his tongue.

“That no harm will come to her, as long as I live.” She recited her oath to the sleeping Princess, her voice breaking slightly, “And not a day shall pass that I don’t miss her smile.”

The Raven walked towards her, stopping to stand beside her. He clenched and unclenched his fist, glancing through the corner of his eyes at the pale woman beside him.

She closed her eyes, “All I can say for now is this; when her time comes,” her right hand moved to cover her heart, fingers gripping the fabric of her clothes, “…So shall mine.”


End file.
